Nostalgia is a Friend

I was a few days from finishing fifth grade. I was in a new school I started that year after moving. Unfortunately, I had already moved houses again so I was starting sixth grade in another new school that fall. The sun was baking hot tinting my face red as I would run up the ladder to throw myself down the yellow spiral slide. Other kids and I were running in a little loop doing this over and over again while either hollering or laughing. I had a clear thought saying something along the lines of, I need to enjoy this as much as I can, and, I will look back on this day as my childhood. Since then there have been several times where I am already looking back on the moment even while it is happening knowing that I was going to be looking back on in again. Humans are strange creatures. 

According to an article I read, people are constantly reminiscing, but nostalgia is a deep seated feeling. People tend to get nostalgic when they are sad, have low self esteem or question the meaning of their life. Our brain in sad moments pulls up good memories, ones that have meaning to us, to cope with a negative state of mind. Don’t worry though, if you think you are a nostalgic person and concerned with the “negative thoughts” tidbit, most people get nostalgic on average at least once a week or more with it potentially coming in waves. I could see how people who like to sit in their mind are more nostalgic than average or, for instance, reminisce on the drive to work.

I hate listening to the radio, so like the creep that I am, I often drive in silence.

I’ve always thought of myself as a reflective person, maybe even too caught up in my head at times. I’m sure the driving in silence solidified that proposed statement, a few friends of mine would agree with you. I spent the summer traveling; my companion was shocked at how okay I was just being in my own mind, repeatedly wondering aloud what in the world I could be thinking about while on a train looking out the window for hours or chilling in a park looking at the trees while she reads a book. 

From what I’ve read, I often reminisce and fall into nostalgia. I thrive off of experiences and genuinely like to cozy up and live in them some days. Maybe it’s a vicious cycle where I push myself to make these memories for the sake of reliving them. That’s a box to unpack another day. 

There is this one memory in particular that I love to relive in dark nights where you can’t see anything even with your eyes open. I had moved to Maui a few months earlier and was invited to go to the summit of Haleakala to watch the sunrise, it was my first time there. It’s a steep drive up a mountain so tall the temperatures plummet to winter gear status. When we parked at the observatory it was still hours before the sun would rise so we grabbed the heavy blankets we packed and laid in the bed of the truck. 

The chill of the metal seeped through the blankets. Breath created a milky fog around the red peak of my nose while I looked at the spectacular twinkle of thousands of stars. Staring at the stars created the sensation they were gently falling closer and closer to me. The person I huddled against for heat pointed out some of the brightest stars directly overhead with a color leached finger. “These stars,” he whispered closely to my ear fanning it with a wisp of heat, “make up Maui’s Hook. The legend says he pulled the islands out of the ocean with it.” I looked in awe at how it felt like the curved stars would scoop us up if they wanted to. With sunrise approaching, we braved the erratic wind that the bed of the truck protected us from and watched as the sun gradually peaked over the clouds slowly washing our faces with daybreak.

Another moment I love to think about from Maui is when Jacquelyn came to visit, at that point it was a few months before I was moving back to Washington. I had solidly established a life with a great job and great friends. Jacquelyn and I decided to go Hana one morning on her vacation, Jasmine came as well. The three of us stopped at my work, having a laugh with my bosses and coworkers, throwing around ideas of what scenery we would stop by along the way. With coffee in hand, the three of us piled into the little white neon, a true Maui cruiser. We drove along the meandering road hugging the Pali coastline with red rock jutting out of the green vegetation on one side and the deep blue ocean turning aqua as it clashes with the shore on the other. The three of us had the windows down yelling Taylor Swift lyrics from the top of our lungs as hair whipped around the car. I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear enjoying the beautiful day with genuine friends as we embarked on an adventure.

I have all sorts of moments like this involving Maui. I loved sitting on the deck before work drinking coffee when the town hadn’t quite woken up yet. I close my eyes and think about riding my bike past the old mango groves and being able to smell that they were almost ripe. I smirk in memory of the time I jumped from the bamboo cover into a slow creek that was such a cold shock I forgot how to swim as my body tensed up. I remember the most mundane to adventurous moments fondly. When I first got to Maui I had thought it was a mistake and I was wrong, it was exactly what I needed.

Nostalgia gets associated with sadness unfairly. We look on the moments nostalgia gives us with wistful fondness in our sad times. Nostalgia is the buddy that checks up on you when you are sick and it is your third day in bed. They remind you of who you are, that the sickness will pass, and they brought soup as a consolation.